


The Most Emotional Escape Room

by Donteatthefootcream



Series: Nygmobblepot Week 2018 [8]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crappy escape room, Day Seven: Trapped Together, Ed is obnoxious tbh, First Kiss, Future Fic, Love Confessions, M/M, Nygmobblepot Week 2018, Oswald is done, There are plot holes lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-03-29 14:31:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13929045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donteatthefootcream/pseuds/Donteatthefootcream
Summary: Ed gets trapped in his own escape room puzzle with Oswald where past secrets are revealed, and the good times are remembered.





	The Most Emotional Escape Room

**Author's Note:**

> This is my longest one this week, and I love it the most even if there's plot holes.

No matter how many times the two have had to team up together to take down a shared enemy, they always end up where they started. Faking hate and having petty wars over something they’ll forget about in a week. Maybe it was Ed’s need to have attention and to be overdramatic. Or maybe it was Oswald’s urge, an urge he despises, to see Ed over and over again. Why can’t he let it go? Why can’t he move on with life and decide to ignore, or forget, the friendship they had, how brilliant this lanky, beautiful man is. It’s dreadful, and he wants it to end, but he can’t help himself.

 

This time, they’re fighting over an event that occurred on the Iceberg Lounge premises. Ed came unannounced and did every flaunting pose possible to gain attention either from men or women. It didn’t seem to matter to him. Well, he ended up getting more attention than Oswald liked from one young, handsome man. Oswald won’t admit it, and his witnesses of the scene will never speak of, but he did slit that man’s throat with the knife from his cane. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed the blood splatter and the blood seeping from the nobody’s neck. He enjoyed Ed’s smirk, yet astonished look in his eyes. Even though Oswald was sure Ed wanted Oswald’s murderous rage, and didn’t care that Oswald killed his hook up for the night, he declared war upon the bloody, fuming bird. _Again._

 

For the most part, Oswald has the upperhand in these wars of theirs. His men were stronger than Ed’s idiots. It’s a shame Ed picks henchmen with little common sense(most likely to fill his ego) because he deserves better. _Oswald_ deserves better. The wars aren’t fun if they’re easily won. However, this time it seems to be all Ed. The only help Ed has that they’ve run into is traps and pranks placed precisely where Ed wants them. He’s still losing, but he sure is putting up a fight this time. Oswald is annoyed with him if he’s to be honest. After all this fighting, he steps up his game over a _loser_? Ed must be highly desperate for attention this time.

 

A week passes before Oswald gets any real contact from the green bean stalk. Ed’s been keeping himself busy, robbing banks and museums during this whole ludacris behavior on both of their parts. It’s a riddle. An easy one that Oswald quickly solves. The abandoned warehouse down near the docks. _That_ sends shivers down his back. He’ll never confess that he still has drunken crying, pity fits over what’s happened down at the docks. The cold look in Ed’s eye, the last bit of his heart being torn apart by the love of his life. Or, the guilt of freezing him for five months. He shouldn’t have done it, there were other things that he could’ve done.

 

At the bottom of the note, Ed leaves a message. Not a riddle thankfully. He informs him to come alone, and that the two of them won’t step foot on the docks. There’s a smirking face drawn next to it, only making Oswald angerier and heartbroken. Damn him. Damn his cockiness and his lack of compassion for anyone. It’s as if someone pisses in his cereal every morning.

 

When Oswald enters the warehouse, alone, like he was asked, he was _not_ expecting this. The whole thing is decorated and redesigned. Including the walls, which are now bright green with a bit of dark purple. There’s a giant… structure in the middle of the giant building. There’s no windows, or doors. Part of him worries, but the other doesn’t. Ed’s weird. Maybe that’s how he likes to spend his free time? Creating random, pointless construction in the middle of forgotten warehouses?

 

“I hope you didn’t bring company because then-” A smooth, yet cheery voice says from the shadows. He walks into view, pointing at the hideous piece of architecture behind him, “-this would be senseless.”

 

“Isn’t it already senseless?” Oswald counters, growing impatient.

 

Ed pouts, acting to be hurt. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, Oswald. You haven’t even _seen_ the inside.”

 

Oswald rolls his eyes. “If I see whatever that _monstrosity_ is, can we end this? It was one stupid guy.”

 

There’s a glint in his eyes, as if he wants to say something, but holds it back. Ed smirks and walks forward, offering Oswald his green gloved hand. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but you do understand that the words you say about my riddle back there are the _exact_ words people say about you, right?”

 

That hurts. If it was any other, he wouldn’t have cared. However, this is Ed. The man he’s still hopelessly and pathetically devoted to. “If you think hurtful words will make me surrender then you’re wrong.”

 

Ed drops his hand and walks behind Oswald, one hand on the middle of his back to lead towards his project. He leans in close, his posture bent to have his head nearly right beside Oswald’s. “You should have let me finish.” He taps his fingers on the smaller man’s back, feeling him tense. “Even though they think you’re a monstrosity, you aren’t. I might hate you with all of my being, but you’re much more than they are. I bet you they’re jealous. Jealous that they’re not filthy rich, feared, and the most powerful person in Gotham City.”

 

“Flattery won’t make me surrender either.”

 

Ed chuckles. “I’m not trying to make you surrender, Oswald. Simply trying to show some decency.” He breaths against Oswald’s ear to whisper, “I wouldn’t have the indecency to slit your boy toy’s throat.”

 

With that, they’re in front of it. Now, Oswald sees a door. A thin line drawing the outline of it. Ed brings out a remote with a few buttons on it, a giant red one opening the door with one push. The bastard, he’s going to lock him up in here. Ed stands in the doorway, maneuvering Oswald into the room, and keeping him at arm’s length. He cocks his head, waiting for Oswald to say something about his past statement.

 

“I don’t have a boy toy, thank you very much. I’m not interested in anyone who isn’t capable of being committed or getting to know somebody.”

 

Ed hums. “I know why.”

 

“No, you _don’t,_ Ed.”

 

All Ed does is smirk once more. He wants to play with Oswald, push all his buttons and triggers. Not right now, though. They have plenty of time in the future to do so. Ed might be plotting against him at the moment, placing him in his puzzle box, but he’ll escape. He’s smart enough to do so.

 

“This is a puzzle, my old friend. I could have done better, I’ll admit, but I’ve been rather busy. With planning my tricks on you, stealing paintings and money, and hiding from the GCPD I wasn’t able to do my absolute _worst._ But _,_ it will do.” He makes a grand gesture with one hand, gesturing to the room and then coming to have his index finger and thumb meet in a perfect circle. “Ever heard of those stupid escape rooms? This is one! I’m sure you’ve always wanted to participate in one! Although, _maybe_ not this one. This here one ends with poisonous gas by the time is up. Which is an hour and thirty minutes. I sure hope your underappreciated genius is up to the task.”

 

“Why is that?”

 

“Because, what would Gotham City be without you? What would I do in my free time? You’re my greatest enemy, apart from Batman! Who would I fight with, or taunt? _Nobody_.” He sighs. “I won’t be saving you if time runs out. I can promise you that.”

 

“You make promises you can’t keep all the time, Ed.”

 

He brings the remote under his chin, leaning against it. “Same with you… _former_ best friend.”

 

“I _never_ made a promise to you. _You_ made a big promise to me! A promise that didn’t even last a day.”

 

Ed rolls his eyes. He so does want to talk this out, hear Oswald speak reason because he loves hearing his side of the story, but like everything else, that will be saved for later. “Yes, yes. I’ll be going now. Have fun.”

 

He goes and pushes his shiny, red button and steps back with a wide, teeth showing grin. He goes to wave at Oswald, but is stopped when Oswald goes for his hand, pulling him into the room with him. Ed, startled and now freaking out, drops the remote and falls into the room with the remote separated from him by the door. He rubs his face from his collide with the concrete floor and stares at the door. They’re _trapped together._ In this hot mess he made himself. He hardly remembers what he did to make this. It was in a heat of the moment, and he was in a rare state of being plastered. Why he thought it was a good idea to drink so much that night was grabbed from him, he’s not sure. Was it over Oswald killing a flirtatious moron over his love for him, but not saying a word to him to reassure Ed that his illogical feelings were returned? Yes.

 

“I’m sure you remember how to get out. Have at it,” Oswald says. His voice is calmer than it should be.

 

Ed looks at him from the floor, glaring, “I might, or might not, have been completely wasted when I made this.”

 

It takes a moment for Oswald to realize what this means. Ed has no recollection of the making of this. _Did he even sleep_? “You’re an idiot!”

 

“I had a rough night.”

 

“You don’t think I have ‘rough nights’, Ed? I don’t drink them away!”

 

Ed stands, pushing a finger into Oswald’s chest. “Yes, you do Oswald! I know you. I lived with you for God’s sake! You drink every night. Okay, fine, not enough to get drunk, but you certainly drink when upset, or stressed.”

 

Oswald exhales sharply, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. He can’t _believe_ this is happening to him. “You’re the Riddler. I’m sure you can figure this out.”

 

Ed removes his hat, running a hand through his slicked back hair. “Yes, you’re absolutely correct. We’ll be out of here in fifteen minutes. _Tops!_ ”

 

He quickly moves away from Oswald, inspecting the room from the center. Oswald watches him, mumbling things to himself as he figures out what to do first. There’s plenty of things to do in this vacant room, truly set up like one of those mall escape rooms. There’s a theme and everything. He can’t think exactly of what it is, only that there’s a painted fireplace, a couch, desk, and a few fancy lamps. However, his mind starts turning. Ed was drunk while making this. How the _hell_ does drunk Ed’s mind work? How the _hell_ is Ed going to crack riddles and codes written by a groggy Edward Nygma? He doesn’t even want to think of it.

 

Oswald chooses to sit down on the couch, terribly uncomfortable one for that matter, and goes over his past life decisions. There is no way they’re getting out of here. A complete five minutes have already passed and Ed is still standing in the center of the room. Only now, he’s gently banging his hand with his palm and telling himself to think. He’s going to die with this idiot genius. The man he can’t stop loving, and it isn’t that disappointing to think about. Yes, he’s going to decompose and smell up this whole place which doesn’t sound very pleasant, but he’ll be doing it with Ed.

 

A whole twenty minutes pass according to Ed’s watch. A watch that was thrown at Oswald out of frustration. Oswald wanted to throw it back at him, hit him twice as hard, but that won’t be helping him. He listens to Ed whisper shouting at himself and slamming desk drawers open and close. He’s had enough of this. Ed’s going to start panicking and the slamming is making him anxious.

 

“Okay, Ed, can you _please_ cut it out!” Oswald demands, sitting up.

 

“Okay, Oswald, can you please get off your ass and help me!” He screams at him, stomping his foot like a child.

 

“What am I supposed to do? I’m useless when it comes to this.”

 

“I don’t know, maybe have a look around yourself? You seem to have gotten a great look and feel of that couch!”

 

Oswald is strongly tempted to throw this watch now. “If you haven’t found anything, neither will I. Should I be moral support?”

 

It comes off as a joke, but Ed seems to still. “If you want.”

 

Oswald laughs. “What do you want me to do? Cheer ‘Go Ed!’ the whole time? How do you even _give_ support?” That’s a good question.

 

Ed shuffles through papers. “Yep, I hate you. All you care about is yourself. You can’t even try to help me. Emotionally or physically.”

 

“Like you’re _any_ better.”

 

Oswald immediately begins to feel fright when he watches Ed with wide eyes come around to the couch, sitting on the only spot left. He removes his glasses and gloves, moving his hands down his face. There’s silence amongst them, Ed taking deep breaths while Oswald keeps a close eye on him.

 

“I’m sorry for not being helpful,” Oswald finally says, not feeling ashamed for apologizing. He doesn’t enjoy to see Ed like this.

 

“If we both die, I guess none of us won. That’s hopeful… kind of.”

 

Oswald smiles until a sudden thought hits him. It might be the best thought he’s had all day. “Wait, a moment!” He gets off the couch and begins to pace.

 

“If only you had a glass of wine. It would make this image way more you.”

 

He ignores Ed’s humorous comment. “So, let me get this straight, you were drinking to forget when you made this?”

 

“Umm… not really, but I see what you mean.”

 

“Whatever hurt you must be the answer to this escape! You were going through the emotions, being depressed and mad over something. God knows what, but it has to be the answer.”

 

Ed doesn’t like the sound of that. “N-no-”

 

“Why not? You’re rather emotional when you get upset. I don’t even want to think about how drunk, emotional Ed must be like!” He chuckles at his own comment, trying to clear the air.

 

“You’re probably right, I just… the reason why I was upset is embarrassing. I don’t want to share it with you.”

 

“Are you serious right now? I’m all for privacy, Ed, but you’re really going to let us die over pride? Really?”

 

Ed shakes his head. Oswald is correct, he’s not going to die over this. Besides, maybe they can solve this without Oswald having to know what he was upset over. Upset over Oswald _never_ doing anything. At Rogue Gallery meetings, there’s never a touch or comment. Just silence. The only sound or touch he gets from Oswald are these wars. That’s why he does them.

 

“I understand. Maybe I can do this without letting you know.”

 

“If you can, then I’m thrilled.”

 

Ed returns to the center of the room, looking over the setting. It’s painfully similar, as if something mighty important happened here. Not bad, however, good. The couch. The poorly painted fireplace. The vintage lamps that glow a bright yellow. The wooden desk that he knew his way around pretty well. It must not be an exact replica of the original. He stares long and hard… _Van Dahl Mansion._

 

He cups his head, feeling warmth rush to his face. “God, I am such a mess.”

 

“Yes, I know.”

 

Ed smiles instead of glares. Oswald’s sass is something he’s always found amusing, including the times it’s directed towards him. “I figured out the setting. All I need to do now is look for the clues to make sense of this.”

 

Oswald glances at Ed’s watch, still being held in his hands. “Well, forty minutes have already passed. We do have fifty minutes. I’m sure that’s enough time.”

 

Ed doesn’t respond. Instead he walks over to the fireplace, running his fingers over the badly painted on wall. Some parts are thicker than others. It’s rather disgusting up close, the job so badly done. In the middle of the painting, where the poorly mixed shades of red, yellow, and orange make up the fire he feels something underneath. He instantly starts peeling away the paint, his fingernails unfortunately getting paint stuck them. He wants to scream, he just got his nails cleansed and manicured. He continues though until a sheet of paper falls out from the hold.

 

“You found something?”

 

Ed nods and flips it open. He rereads it multiple times, feeling a wave of memory and regret flooding through him. _Nothing warms me more than my mother’s love._ The first time they truly opened up to one another. The beginning of the best friendship Ed’s ever had. The only friendship he’s ever had.

 

He looks at the bottom of the small piece of scrap paper. “You write on me, yet, leave no words. What am I?”

 

“What is it?”

 

Ed looks up from the note. “A desk.”

 

“Oh of course! I’m such an idiot sometimes.”

 

_No, you’re not. You’re spectacular._

 

Ed gets off the floor, stuffing the note into his jacket pocket. This time, he carefully looks over the desk to see if anything sticks out. There’s only a few papers, the most of them only there to cause some difficulty. He collects them into one big pile, going through them one by one to find anything of importance. It only takes a few random papers to find it. To find the employment sheet of his placement as Chief of Staff. Signed by himself, and Oswald. He flips it over, finding nothing on the front. He’s glad he didn’t taint the front side. On the back, he finds more.

 

_I can’t be bought, but I can be stolen with a glance. I’m worthless to one, but priceless to two. What am I?_

 

Once again, he’s humiliated by how damn sentimental he is. Oswald is right. He’s dramatic enough as it is. Drunk him is horrendous. He turns his attention to the real riddle.

 

“I’m hurtful to one, but thanked by another. No matter how small, the result will stay the same. What am I?”

 

“What is that supposed to mean-”

 

“It’s sacrifice.”

 

Oswald looks at Ed, completely confused. “How did you solve it so fast?”

 

Ed leans back in the chair, his hand covering his mouth and then being removed, acting to be surprised. “I don’t know? It could possibly be due to the fact that I’m called ‘The Riddler’ but that could be some irrelevant nickname.” He sits up. “It’s sacrifice because when you sacrifice something, it’s going to hurt a little bit, but it’ll make the other grateful, and happy. The last part could be either taken to the one sacrificing, or the one who’s benefited from the sacrifice. Either you’re hurt, or you’re happy. See?”

 

Oswald reluctantly nods. “You brain amazes me.” He looks away and at the floor, his ever so famous way of being bashful or embarrassed, “How does it fit with this room?”

 

Now, that’s when Ed truly has to think about it. He sacrificed his life at the hands of Butch during the campaign celebration to help Oswald’s name. To make him the city’s hero. Yet, there’s nothing here that connects to the Sirens. This whole setting is Oswald’s mansion, most especially the living room. What could there possibly be in here that connects…?

 

He abruptly stands and strides over to the couch. This is where the aftermath of the party took place. He practically relives it, Oswald coming in from the kitchen carrying tea with honey while he coughs. Him explaining to Oswald why he would do that, trying to soothe Oswald’s worry and concern. Him telling Oswald he’d do anything for him. That was proclaiming his ability to sacrifice for Oswald as well. Yep, he’s _never_ getting drunk again.

 

Ed slowly sits down on the cushion closest to the fire. He searches for anything that will give him a clue of what to do next. He snaps his fingers to gain Oswald’s attention and points to the spot in front of him. He blocks out Oswald’s exclamation of how he’s not a servant, waiting for him to sit down. He does, after a few seconds. This feels too real, even in the wrong lighting, emotional atmosphere, and clothing.

 

Oswald stares at Ed, and slowly his eyes begin to grow wide. “Th-this is-”

 

“The scene where I told you I’d do anything for you,” Ed confirms, not daring to look Oswald in the eye.

 

“I can’t do this, Ed. I’m not going to play this wicked game with you. If this is all some _terrible_ ploy to hurt me for killing that _boy_ who had the _nerve_ to speak with you, to put his hand risquély on your thigh-”

 

“No, no! Please, Oswald. I swear to you, I didn’t know anything about this.”

 

He huffs. “Obviously, this whole thing is about your feelings. It was directed to me afterall. So, the clue is probably underneath your cushion.”

 

He jumps right up, flipping the red velvet seat up. “Ah-hah!” He holds the piece of paper up. “See, I told you you’d be able to solve it!”

 

Oswald only faintly smiles. “Can you just finish this please?”

 

Ed opens it and reads through it. There’s a riddle at the end fortunately, telling Oswald, really the two of them, where the button is to free them, but the majority of it is some heartfelt letter to Oswald. Ed wants to freaking shoot himself over how ridiculous he is. He’s glad that Oswald didn’t have to find this stuff without him here. He’d never hear the end of it. As he reads it, Ed has come to terms with the truth. He has to tell Oswald what the letter says. Sum it up in a sober Ed way. Why go through all of these painful flashbacks with no end for Oswald? The purpose of this was to get Oswald once and for all, why ruin it now? Even if it was drunk, sentimental Ed’s plan.

 

He clears his throat. “This is a letter I wrote you.”

 

Oswald tries to snatch it away, only to have Ed raise it above his head. Oswald doesn’t stand a chance now. “Ed, give it to me!”

 

“I think it’ll be better if I tell you now. Sober and all that.”

 

Oswald looks at his hands, fidgeting. “First, tell me you know where the door opener is.”

 

Ed softly laughs. “I do.”

 

Oswald leans back against the back of the furniture, closing his eyes. “Okay, get on with it. I want to leave.”

 

“I lied to you out on this docks, Oswald. I’ve always felt a pull to you, an attraction since our first conversation in the GCPD. We were friends in my apartment, but the want to share everything with you, including my bed was such a domestic scene that I wished to have with you. Clearly, I didn’t admit it then.” He pauses. “It wasn’t until you were in Arkham where I realized how much you meant to me. And, when the tables were turned and _I_ was in Arkham, where you visited me every other week, I then began to figure out how much more I wanted from you. You’re the first person to respect me and reach my level, even now. I did _love_ you, Oswald. I tried to tell you on this couch, but you know me. I can’t be straightforward most of the time.” Ed laughs at himself. He’s such a fool. They wouldn’t be here right now if he was obvious for once. “Then _she_ came along. A chance to have a second go with a normal life. I had a stable job, a sane certificate. I could have moved on. And you took that away from me, and _lied_ through your teeth to me. You allowed me to humiliate myself and go throughout my days depressed. It wasn’t her death that upset me so much to shoot you. It was your betrayal. I trusted you, and even with her around, you still had my heart. You broke it, Oswald.”

 

Oswald opened his eyes a long time ago, to witness Ed going through all different signs of emotion. First happiness, then anger, and now pain. Throughout, there was a shadow of sadness. He’ll admit, he screwed up. He shouldn’t have killed her. He should have listened to his mother and went after Ed anyway, told him how he felt. In the end, he ended up hurting his one and only. He’s regretted it ever since. There’s constant guilt flowing through him during any event in his busy days. All because he should be doing it all with Ed.

 

“If I could, Ed, I would take it all back.”

 

Ed nods solemnly. “I know you would, Oswald. I see it whenever you let me live, or when you protect me. Don’t act like I don’t know about the secret bodyguards, Oswald!” He points a finger at him, trying to ignore the slow tears running down his face. “I moved on from the past a long time ago, Oswald. I’ll never be able to forgive you, but I want to stop this fighting. Want to know why I start these unnecessary battles, Oswald? Because I want to talk to you! You never talk to me when it’s civil.” He reaches a hand out, shaking Oswald’s shoulder. “Please say something. I hate it when you don’t talk to me.”

 

“So, what you’re saying is that you’ve always been in love with me, and still am? And, you want to move past our bad choices from earlier years… _together_?”

 

“Sounds about right.”

 

He finally brings himself to look at Ed, not offering a frown or a smile. “Ed, I’d be a liar if I said that doesn’t sound tempting. To have a second chance of being partners, but… I gave up on love awhile ago. It would be safer for us to not have _any_ sort of relationship.”

 

“Oswald, please-”

 

“Where’s the button?”

 

Oswald is moving from the couch now, refusing to be near Ed any longer. He’s aware that he hurt Ed, but it’s for the better. He has to do this. To protect him. He’s going to sacrifice his chance of happiness for Ed. Like he should have all those years ago.

 

He only faces the tall man again when he hears something being thrown behind him. “I’m not taking ‘Where’s the button’ as a response, Oswald, god damn it!”

 

“I’m keeping you safe, Ed!” Oswald tries to make him see sense. “We have five minutes left. I _beg_ you to let me go. I’m letting you go..” He feels his own eyes watering now. He hates that Ed can do this to him.

 

Ed scoffs, slamming his hands to his sides. “Do you actually believe I would poison you, or put you in any danger? I was going to send men after you once an hour passed!”

 

“I can’t stand you!”

 

“I’m not revealing the place of the button until you talk to me.”

 

Oswald can’t deal with this. “Fine, you know what? I’ll pour my heart and soul out, just for you!” He walks back to Ed. “I’m still in love with you, nothing has changed. I talked to you in the ice every damn day, hoping that somehow I’d bring myself to free you. If you called me on the phone at a ridiculous time in the morning asking me for help, I’d be there. I want you, Ed, more than you can imagine, but we _can’t._ I’m The Penguin and you’re The Riddler. There is no us, or we. It’ll ruin everything. People will hurt us with each other. I can’t put you in harms way.”

 

“There’s something I learned from our years apart, Oswald. Being together will create risk, however, we’re strong enough to protect each other. Trust me, Oswald. I mean, you have a whole army at your fingertips and a dangerous hot-temper. No one will lay a hand on me, and if they do, you’ll make them pay. Same goes for you. We can do this, Oswald.”

 

“Stop it-”

 

Ed doesn’t know what he can do anymore. He grabs Oswald’s face and leans down, kissing him hard. He wants everything to go into this kiss, to assure him that he tried his best to get his little bird back. He’s reluctant at first, yet, Oswald starts responding in turn. His chapped lips against Ed’s perfectly taken care of ones, moving in sync like they should have all those years ago. It’s beautiful, and everything the two of them had ever hoped for.

 

Ed pulls back, only because he needs to come back for air. “I’ll tell you where the button is if you promise to give me, this a try.”

 

He lets Oswald moves his hands to his waist, his eyes not looking at Ed, but at the position they’re in. After what feels like forever, he nods. “Okay, I promise to allow us a second chance. To rule Gotham City side by side.”

 

Ed pecks his lips. “Good, I love you for that.” He smiles. “It’s in the arm of the couch’s arm. You know, because I’ll always be there to support you, and I want you on my arm.”

 

Oswald groans. “Part of me wishes to meet drunk Ed just because I want to hear you profess your love for me every minute, but he sounds unbearable at the same time.”

 

“I’ll try to see if I can fit the first part into my daily routine.”

 

Oswald limps over to the arm of the couch, feeling for anything. “A fair solution.”

 

Ed smiles at his dear Oswald, noting the disappearance of tension between them, Oswald smiling and both of them already planning their romantic future together. It’s feel strange, as if nothing has happened in the past years. They were fun years, but didn’t come close to giving the two of them what they really wanted. Ed’s grateful that he’s been given the rest of his life to make up for lost time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for commenting, leaving kudos, and reading! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed Nygmobblepot Week 2018!


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